Chapter 999: Snow

All along, Cecil and Typhon had pursued very different technological paths—Cecil had pioneered a new route in magi-tech, while Typhon focused on pushing the potential and application of supernaturals to higher levels. In the short term, their advantages were hard to compare, and Gawain had never imagined these two paths would ever intersect.

Unfortunately, manipulating supernatural talent—selecting “weakly gifted” individuals from ordinary people and using potions, rituals, and training to catalyze them into genuine but narrowly specialized supernaturals—had always been Typhon’s specialty. Cecil had no research in this area whatsoever.

The Sleeper’s Order had long operated within Typhon’s sphere, so when Wendy first encountered the problem of insufficiently qualified candidates for the Psionic Singers, she immediately thought of Typhon’s alchemical potions and catalytic techniques. But as for the real details of those technologies… obviously, she had no way of knowing.

“These are military secrets,” Yuri explained. “The potions are controlled by the Typhon royal family and a few key military nobles. The catalytic techniques are similarly restricted. Even if we got hold of them, we’d still need matching training methods—otherwise, test subjects are at great risk.” Yuri, who came from Typhon nobility himself, had left that circle by the time mass production of supernaturals matured, but he still had contacts and knew more internal information than Wendy. “I don’t think we can get this data anytime soon…”

Gawain’s expression grew serious as he stroked his chin. Heddy quietly said beside him, “Do you think Number Twenty-Five might…”

Gawain thought for a moment, then slowly shook his head.

He had indeed first thought of Daniel, who had infiltrated Typhon’s upper echelons. As the most successful spy in Cecil’s intelligence network, Daniel had access to many unimaginable secrets. But precisely because of that, his intelligence was highly specialized and came with great exposure risk. Daniel’s current sphere was mostly limited to the “Imperial Engineering Guild” under Typhon’s control. Beyond that, he could only rely on personal contacts to pick up rumors among nobles and mage scholars. Logically, it was unlikely he’d have access to mass-production supernatural tech unrelated to his field.

Of course, they could take a risk and send Daniel to steal such intelligence, but Gawain thought the danger was too great. Typhon’s roaming agents were no fools, and Rosetta Augustus was especially cautious. With tensions rising in Aldern, many spies working for Cecil, even liaison officers planted by the “Trajectory” project, had been caught by Typhon authorities. Amber had even been forced to cut several intelligence lines. In such a tense situation, Gawain couldn’t risk losing an irreplaceable asset like Daniel on a dangerous recipe heist.

As he pondered, Heddy suddenly spoke up, “Wait, I just thought of someone…”

“You mean our ‘guest’ currently staying at Solinburg?” Gawain raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think she’d cooperate on something like this. Surrendering for the greater good and betraying your country are two very different things.”

“…Or maybe her father?” Heddy considered. “Bard used to be…”

“Allow me to interject,” Yuri said from the side. “First, the Wendell family is indeed one of Typhon’s most important military noble houses. Their head and heir would definitely have access to these secrets. But I don’t think Bard can help—he left Typhon over a decade ago, back when mass-production of supernaturals was still far from mature. For many years after, Bard was locked away in the biochemical labs of the End of All Things cult. He likely never had a chance to access this kind of intelligence…”

“Let’s table this for now,” Gawain said after a moment’s thought, shaking his head. “We’re getting off track. Our focus should be on normal research routes. Heddy, you can try to arrange contact with the Wendell father and daughter, but be careful not to backfire. Until then, Wendy and Yuri, stick to the original plan—select some suitable mages for training. In wartime, our mental defense units must be deployed as soon as possible. Even a small elite force can improve frontline soldiers’ survival chances.”

With the arrangements made, Gawain didn’t linger in the lab. He still had to preside over a governor’s meeting before evening.

As they left the research facility, Gawain and Heddy walked toward the parking lot. A sharp, biting wind blew, causing Heddy—who hadn’t activated her breeze shield—to instinctively pull her collar tighter.

Gawain looked up. The sky had darkened without his noticing. Leaden clouds hung heavy over the land, swirling with restless cold winds. Amid the turbulent currents, delicate, crystalline snowflakes began drifting down.

“It’s snowing…” Heddy looked up too, the falling flakes reflected in her clear eyes. She reached out, catching a snowflake on her fingertip, which melted into a droplet within seconds. “The first snow in the southern region is really late this year…”

“It already snowed last week on the Holy Spirit Plains,” Gawain said. “The Astronomical Research Bureau compared historical patterns of rain, snow, and temperature changes. They believe this winter will be colder than any in the past twenty years.”

“Our textile trade with Typhon has been suspended due to the war,” Heddy said seriously. “At least until the war ends, we won’t get cheap fabrics from the East. Fortunately, last year’s large purchases and steady cotton production in the western plains have built up enough stock. We won’t have to worry about winter clothing supply this year. But if the war drags on, we’ll have to consider expanding cotton production—this year’s baby boom means more newborns, which requires extra textiles, medicine, and food. The Agriculture Department is already planning accordingly.”

“…The impact is already showing. Typhon won’t have it easy this winter either. Many of their railways still can’t operate independently, and numerous factories are waiting on our finished parts,” Gawain shook his head. “This will be a test of the new international order, and the first test for the two settlement zones. Typhon will try to maintain their market in the southern continent, and our trade with the western continent must continue as usual. News of the war has surely spread to all nations by now. Stable trade will boost our allies’ confidence—and ease our own pressure.”

Heddy lowered her head. “I understand, ancestor.”

…

As the first snow of the year drifted down over Cecil City, another snow arrived neither early nor late in distant Aldern.

Compared to the more northern Cecil, Aldern’s snow seemed gentler. Sparse flakes fell through the gloomy sky and thin mist, slowly blanketing the damp city streets with a thin layer of white.

Ferdinand Wendell stepped out onto the porch and stood in the snowy courtyard, staring absentmindedly at the grand yet strangely empty and cold luxury estate. His attendants and maids stood nearby, but he felt utterly alone.

A year ago, Andesha had stood here with him to watch the snow. Over a decade ago, Bard and his then-healthy daughter-in-law had been by his side. Twenty years ago, near the swing set and the beautiful fountain, his ever-smiling wife had sat. But this year, he was the only one left.

A bone-chilling wind blew, and Ferdinand felt it pierce through his arms and knees. He finally couldn’t help but raise a breath shield to block the northern cold, dispersing the snowflakes swirling around him. He gave a bitter smile—no matter how fearsome a wolf general once was, even he would grow old. Yet in his youth, he never imagined that his old self would stand so lonely in a courtyard amid wind and snow.

Andesha, far away in Cecil, should be alright… The people of Cecil wouldn’t be so harsh on a general who had voluntarily laid down arms. But in such a cold winter, did she have someone to keep her company?

A voice beside him broke his thoughts. “Sir, the wind is picking up. You should go back inside and rest.”

Ferdinand turned toward the voice and saw his longtime butler standing in the snow. Snowflakes had already settled on the man’s shoulders, yet he stood straight and still, as if a statue.

The moment of nostalgia ended. Ferdinand’s expression hardened again, becoming the formidable knight lord he once was. He nodded solemnly and turned toward the porch. The butler followed a half-step behind, discreetly brushing snow from his shoulders.

“You sent servants to the market this morning, right?” Ferdinand asked casually under the porch. “How’s the order there?”

“Prices have stabilized, and the panic has eased considerably,” the butler replied immediately. “People are still anxious, but no longer in a state of helpless fear. Most are just worried about food prices rising again and when the war will end.”

“Are there many discussions about the church?”

“Everywhere, but it’s rare now to see anyone openly questioning the Protectorate Knights or the Obsidian Guard, or anyone fanatically supporting the church—at least not in public,” the butler continued. “The public exorcisms and detailed reports with photos of altars and rooms defiled by evil spirits have had a strong deterrent effect. Even devout believers now say the evil spirits have tainted the church, rather than insisting the War God’s faith is pure and flawless…”

Ferdinand nodded slightly, his stern expression softening a bit.

The city’s atmosphere was improving. Though some nobles were restless, speculators uneasy, and tension rising in high society, Aldern’s overall order had stabilized rapidly and miraculously. Key departments were visibly improving their operations.

Supplies of food, medicine, and other essentials had stabilized. Several planned attempts to inflate prices or hoard goods were firmly suppressed. Some War God priests had tried armed resistance against the blockade, but before they could act, the Obsidian Guard and Protectorate Knights crushed and dismantled all rebellions. In fact, a month ago, War God churches nationwide had already been placed under strict surveillance by royalist troops. Though some units lost control unexpectedly, overall, the Obsidian Palace maintained firm command.

There had been fears that the parliament’s temporary closure would plunge the empire into prolonged chaos, but Rosetta Augustus and his royal cabinet, along with the emergency advisory council, had proven their efficiency and resolve. Now, everything was beginning to move in a positive direction.

At least, for the time being.

The old duke instinctively pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the hard, watch-sized object nestled there—a special talisman. Its power was slowly flowing now, seeping through him, shielding him. The talisman brought a measure of comfort, but it also reminded him that some things were far from over.

…

Since the war began, intelligence from the front lines had been streaming in relentlessly, transmitted through communication towers scattered across the empire, all converging here in Aldern, onto Rosetta Augustus’s desk.

This war was something few wished to see, yet the “gains” it brought were undeniable. For the empire’s rulers, the greatest prize was intelligence—both about the enemy and about themselves.

Rosetta’s gaze moved slowly over a document, while Matilda stood quietly by his side.

The report detailed extensive information on the Cecil people’s “magical mechanized forces”: the myriad self-operating war machines, the equipment and tactics of Cecil infantry, the enemy’s strategic thinking and overall deployment, as well as summaries and assessments of Typhon’s own troops.

Every life lost on the battlefield was distilled into lessons and reflections on these thin sheets of paper. For both Cecil and Typhon, this was the first time they faced a truly equal opponent, engaging in such broad and deep confrontation on the front lines.

Both sides were learning from the conflict. Rosetta studied the intelligence in his hands, certain that Gawain Cecil’s desk held similar reports.

“Your earlier judgment was right, Matilda,” Rosetta finally looked up at his eldest daughter after a long pause. “We must push further in integrating magitech into our military. Simply putting soldiers in magitech vehicles or producing some weapons in factories isn’t nearly enough. The Cecils have enormous war potential—though they’re currently at a stalemate with us, their growth rate will inevitably surpass ours over time. The gap between us lies partly in magitech, but also in their… mindset.”

“Andersa once told me she’s worried we’ll be locked in a prolonged war with the Cecils—their war machines have short production cycles, their soldiers train quickly, and they can afford losses. Our superhuman corps, though far advanced over traditional troops, still can’t keep pace with Cecil’s speed in this regard… A long war would be very disadvantageous for us.”

“…Time. That’s what we need,” Rosetta said slowly. “I just hope we still have enough of it.”

(End of chapter)